A Rose In Bloom
by FlamesOfAPhoenix
Summary: Above everything, this is a story about the power of love. Set on the first day of each school year, this is a series of one-shots and drabbles surrounding Rose's growing relationship with her mother.
1. Slow

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and none of her wonderful characters are mine. Sigh. This was written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass' Next Generation Family Challenge and the prompt was "slow" - I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

There was no doubt about it. Rose Weasley, for the first time in living memory, was being slow. She'd talked none-stop about Hogwarts for the last year, but her enthusiasm seemed to have deserted her. She was dragging her feet and refused to look at anyone. Her little face was wan and her riotous red curls were oddly wilted.

Ron, typically, didn't notice any of these things. Listening to his lecture about Gryffindor's inherent superiority, Hermione resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. He was, as always, displaying the emotional range of a teaspoon. But this sentiment was laced with affection and it was with a small smile that Hermione returned to the task at hand.

"Rose, will you help me with Fluffy's cage?" Hermione asked, determined to lure Rose away from her father's unhelpful diatribe. Something was wrong, and she was determined to fix it. Her daughter nodded mutely at her request, Ron's muffled snort clearly audible. Despite the passing years, Ron still associated the owl's name with a certain three-headed dog. When Rose, barely seven at the time, declared in imperious tones that the owl should be called Fluffy, Ron had done everything possible to dissuade her. But Rose was as stubborn as her parents, and the name stuck.

Normally, thought Hermione ruefully, that was how her little girl behaved, forthright and resolute. At the moment, however, Rose appeared to be a shadow of her former self. As she traipsed into the kitchen, her ring of curls bobbed half-heartedly and she was unusually pale. She was, in a word, _miserable_.

And Hermione, like any mother, hated to see her daughter miserable.

As they reached the kitchen, where Fluffy sat hooting, Hermione cupped Rose's chin. As usual, she wasted no time and got straight to the point.

"What's wrong, darling?" she asked, although she already suspected the answer.

"I… I'm not sure I want to go," mumbled her daughter, failing to meet her eye. Hermione felt a rush of love for her daughter and stroked a few haphazard curls out of her face.

"Of course you want to go," said Hermione softly, smiling gently at Rose, "Hogwarts was _made_ for people like you and you'll love every moment."

"But what if I'm not good enough… what if I'm not what they expect?" Rose whispered, anxiety etched on her freckled face. Hermione sighed. This was the crux of the matter and Hermione knew it had to be handled delicately. The feeling of insecurity was not foreign to her and she could only imagine Rose's distress. Already, it seemed, Rose was experiencing the weight of expectation. It was a heavy burden to bear, especially on such small shoulders, and it was something all children of the Golden Trio would have to endure. She could imagine the thoughts darting across Rose's quick mind and sought to assuage them.

"We don't expect you to be anything but yourself," said Hermione reassuringly. "You're not going to Hogwarts to be the next Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley, you're going there to be _you_ and all the wonderful things that entails. You are perfect and you don't need to change for anyone. Don't forget that, alright?" She kissed her daughter on the forehead and drew her into a brief embrace. Hermione felt Rose relax against her and knew her work was done. The issue would never go away entirely, but she was confident it could be kept at bay.

For a few moments they stood there and then, quite suddenly, the spell was broken.

"Mum," said Rose, trying to wriggle free, "you're squashing me!" Hermione smiled a little and released her; her forthright girl was back.

"Is there time for me to put my robes on before we go?" asked Rose, her previous excitement returning in the wake of her mother's words.

"Oh, I think so," replied Hermione, beaming at her. Her daughter scampered towards the door, all slowness forgotten.

And Hermione couldn't help but love her.


	2. Laughter

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and none of her wonderful characters are mine. Sigh. This was written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass' Next Generation Family Challenge and the prompt was "laughter" - I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The summer had seemed unusually brief. Although the glorious sunshine lingered, its warmth was dwindling and there was a slight coolness in the air. Pulling her cardigan tight around her, Hermione looked proudly at her little family.

Hugo and Ron were engaged in an animated conversation about Quidditch, gesticulating wildly with their hands. Generally laidback, both seemed to gain added vitality when discussing the Chudley Cannon's chances. Truthfully, it could have been a foreign language to Hermione, but she was content to nod in the right places and enjoy their infectious enthusiasm.

Beaming, she turned her attention to her oldest child, who was positively skipping with joy. Since returning from Hogwarts, she had delighted in recounting some of her wilder exploits and Hermione had been thrilled with her academic progress. Rose had certainly enjoyed the summer, but Hermione could tell she was eager to return to the castle. Indeed, Rose had almost dragged them to King's Cross and her excitement was heartwarming. Sporting a mass of curls and a confident smile, last year's insecurities seemed a long time ago.

As she'd predicted, Rose had loved Hogwarts and had garnered a close group of friends. She'd remained close with Albus and even James, in his clumsy way, had watched out for her. Unsurprisingly, there had been a few cases of jealousy and fortune-hunting, motivated by her _illustrious_ connections, and Rose – on more than one occasion – had felt the weight of expectation. However, in true Gryffindor style, she had risen above it and finished at the top of her year.

Hermione couldn't have been more proud.

She'd certainly inherited her mother's brains, but her father's sense of mischief had not bypassed her either. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't repress a smirk at some of her daughter's wilder exploits. There had been a series of incidents with the younger Malfoy and Minerva had written several letters on the subject. Although she'd scolded her daughter, Hermione was privately amused at her audacity. Not many first years knew enough magic to turn someone's hair red and gold…

Before Hermione knew it, it was time for Rose to board the train. At the sight of her beautiful girl, Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat. She knew it was the best thing for her, but parting was always difficult and she'd missed Rose like mad. Before she could scramble away, lured by the cries of her friends, she gathered Rose into a hug.

"Mum," Rose groaned, "you're embarrassing me!" Despite her protestations, however, she relaxed into the embrace. It was easy to forget, in light of her brains and independence, that the redhead was still a little girl. She, too, missed her family and she clung on tightly to her mother. "I'll miss you," she whispered.

"Me, too," replied Hermione, releasing her and placing a kiss on her riotous hair. Withdrawing, she gazed at her daughter. Rose's bottom lip was trembling and she looked sad. A moment later, however, she regained composure. Flinging her arms around her father and insulting Hugo under her breath, she made to clamber aboard. Before she left, though, Hermione had a few parting words.

"Now, I don't want to hear anything about Scorpius Malfoy this year," she said, feigning severity. Rose scowled at this, but brightened at her mother's next words. "Even, if he does look good in red and gold," Hermione continued, sharing a conspiratorial wink with Rose. Her daughter's mouth fell open – her mother _never _condoned the pulling of pranks – and she couldn't prevent a giggle escaping. Before she knew it, they were both laughing and Hermione watched with a smile as the train began to leave the station.

Waving wildly, she followed her daughter's progress, still laughing uproariously, and continued to smile until Rose rounded the corner. It didn't lessen the pain of parting, but the sound of her daughter's laugh was oddly soothing. Rose was happy and, in all honesty, that was all Hermione could ask for.


	3. Perfect

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and none of her wonderful characters are mine. Sigh. This was written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass' Next Generation Family Challenge and the prompt was "perfect" - I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

This was it. The day Hermione Weasley had both dreaded and longed for. At long last, both her children were heading to Hogwarts. Hugo, nervously fiddling with his shirt, had a smudge of dirt across his nose. With a burst of nostalgia, Hermione wiped it off and watched with amusement as he squirmed away.

Whether she liked it or not, her children were growing up.

Rose, red curls cascading down her back, had almost made them late. She'd spent nearly half an hour in the bathroom, trying desperately to tame her mass of hair. Her little tomboy was suddenly paying attention to her appearance. Ever so often, an expression would cross Rose's face and Hermione was rewarded with a glimpse into her future. She was beginning to discard the child-like features and a hint of the woman she would become was barely discernible. In a couple of years, the inevitable interest in boys would rear its ugly head and Ron would be practising his darkest glare. Remembering her own foray into that area, and determinedly ignoring all thoughts of Lockhart, Krum and – she suppressed a shudder - _McLaggen_, Hermione fervently hoped Rose would have an easier time of it.

Stifling a little sigh, Hermione chivvied her family along the platform. Greeting Harry and Ginny, her own children converged with theirs. Rose and Albus were soon talking at the speed of light, exchanging news, and Hermione was pleased to see Lily taking Hugo under her wing. In some respects, her youngest felt the burden of notoriety more strongly than Rose. Rose, in the main, was an outgoing child. Hugo, although equally bright, was slightly more reserved. She only hoped Rose would look out for her brother.

Intending to say something to Rose, she opened her mouth and sought a means of separating her daughter from the group. Surprisingly, Ron got there first.

"So, Rosie," he inquired, "going to keep an eye on Hugo for us?" Rose rolled her eyes at this, but Hermione could tell she took the words to heart. Hugo, predictably, had other ideas.

"I don't need looking after!" he exclaimed, sounding highly indignant. Clearly, he saw his sister as the worst form of embarrassment. "Anyway," he continued triumphantly, "_James_ said he'd take care of me." At this, the adults – even James' mother – exchanged concerned glances. The boy in question, however, slung an arm around his cousin.

"Don't worry," he said cheerfully, "I'll teach Hugo all he needs to know."

"Probably means he's going to rope Hugo into pranking the Slytherins," muttered Harry, under no illusions. Hermione grimaced in disapproval, but Ron's expression was oddly pleased. Despite countless evidence to the contrary, her husband still held a grudge against the house and probably endorsed James' plans. James made Rose's treatment of Malfoy look amateurish, and was endeavouring to live up to his names. The Marauders would have been proud, Hermione thought wryly. Ginny seemed to be thinking along similar lines to her sister-in-law, and fixed James with a stern expression.

"You are _so _like Ron," she said, not for the first time.

"Hey!" they both yelped, causing the rest of the party to laugh.

Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, and a quick subject change by Harry, Hermione managed to corner Rose. "You _will_ look after him, right?" she asked her daughter, absently playing with her daughter's curls. Slapping her mother's hand away, and patting her hair, Rose nodded.

"Of course I will," she said, keeping her voice low. Hugo was chatting with Lily again and was too busy to hear her words. "We bicker like mad, but I'd… I'd adopt a Blast-Ended Skrewt before I let anything happen to him." Hermione smirked slightly. Despite the intervening years, Hagrid's "pets" still inspired fear in those who crossed their path. Rose's declaration, therefore, meant a great deal.

"I know," she whispered, pulling Rose in for a hug and kissing her head. "But don't forget to look after yourself either." Rose nodded into Hermione's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Hermione released her. Her little girl was growing up fast, but that didn't make goodbyes any easier.

"Tell you what," she said mischievously, "if you promise not to murder Hugo, I'll try not to kill your Dad. Fair?" Her parents' arguments were legendary and Rose's expression indicated a certain reserve. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd suggest that Rose wasn't entirely sure her mother was joking. Coming to a decision, Rose grinned widely, before pecking her mother on the cheek and grabbing Hugo's arm.

As Rose hauled him onto the train, Hermione reached for her husband's hand. Whatever Rose thought, Hermione knew the truth. As much as anything, their arguments were an excuse to kiss and make up. Returning his look of love, Hermione returned her attention to the Hogwarts Express and their children. Their faces were lit up with excitement and, gazing from Rose and Hugo to Ron, Hermione couldn't suppress a rush of happiness. Despite everything, her life had worked out just fine.

In fact, everything was perfect.


	4. Greed

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and none of her wonderful characters are mine. Sigh. This was written for Cheeky Slytherin Lass' Next Generation Family Challenge and the prompt was "greed" - I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Some days, Hermione couldn't believe her luck. Against all odds, they'd won and survived a war. She had two beautiful children, and a husband she adored. Being a member of the Golden Trio, however, did have its drawbacks. Despite the intervening years, their fame had not diminished and the media often ran stories about their activities. If _The Prophet_ was to be believed, Hermione had had more affairs than the rest of the country combined and enjoyed a secret relationship with Harry. Needless to say, none of these rumours were true, but the papers had caused their fair share of strife over the years.

Rose and Hugo, young as they were, had also shared their notoriety and were often upset by the stories that were run. As they'd got older, though, they'd learnt to hold their heads high and ignore the whispers. As Hermione knew herself, this wasn't always easy and the words could still sting. Recently, Rita Skeeter had been pestering their family and friends for interviews, gathering material for her new biography. Oddly enough, the Weasleys had refused and Rita was left to ferret around for scraps of information.

Hermione had, naively it seemed, believed that Rita's project had stalled. As it happened, she was proved entirely wrong. When they arrived at King's Cross for Rose and Hugo's first day of school, they were greeted with many whispers and stares. Of course, this was nothing unusual. For obvious reasons, Ron and Hermione still attracted their fair amount of attention. This time, however, it was _Rose _that garnered the most interest.

The reason for this became woefully apparent.

"Hermione!" Spinning round, Hermione saw Ginny rushing towards her, magazine in hand. "Have you seen this?" she gasped, waving an article at her. Hermione barely had time to shake her head before the offending section was thrust under her nose.

DAUGHTER OF THE GOLDEN TRIO IN SECRET AFFAIR WITH DEATH EATER'S SON

_Rose Weasley, daughter of Hermione and Ron Weasley, has always been seen as a model student. Following in her mother's footsteps, the young witch's grades are impressive and she regularly tops the year. However, we can exclusively reveal that Miss Weasley is not what she seems. Taking after her mother, in more ways than one, Miss Weasley is currently engaged in a scandalous affair with none other than Scorpius Malfoy, son of a former Death Eater. For years, the two have engaged in a long-running feud but a close friend suggests it is all a façade. "They pretend to hate each other," says Amelia Hurt, 13, "but it's obvious there's more than meets the eye… _

Restraining the urge to grit her teeth, for Skeeter's by-line had already caught her eye, Hermione scanned the rest of the article. It was all lies, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. Her fury with Skeeter mounting, she turned to Rose and attempted to soften the blow. Before she could say anything, however, her daughter snatched it from her hands.

There was a long pause.

Watching her daughter's face, whilst silently gesturing at Ron to escort Hugo towards the train, Hermione held her breath. Angry tears were forming in Rose's eyes, but she hurriedly wiped them away.

"It's utter rubbish," she said eventually, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I know, darling."

"Because I'd never even… I mean, I wouldn't… with _Malfoy_!" Abandoning any attempt to remain calm, Rose resorted to half formed sentences to get her point across. She was fiddling agitatedly with her hair and the untameable ringlets were becoming wilder. Gently, Hermione pulled her hands away from her hair and clasped them in her own. Before she could say anymore, though, her daughter's face went through a rapid transformation. Eyes glued on a spot beyond Hermione's shoulder, her face betrayed a vicious anger.

Glancing behind her, Hermione saw a blonde-haired child weaving her way towards them. Immediately, she recognised the girl as Rose's friend Amelia. She looked at Rose, noticing the danger signs. Involuntarily, she braced herself for the imminent explosion. Like her parents, Rose possessed a formidable temper and, despite her stature, was a force to be reckoned with. Belatedly, Hermione tightened her grip on Rose. Unfortunately for Amelia, Hermione's restraining arm was quickly shaken off.

"How could you?" burst out Rose, rounding on her friend. Amelia, who had frozen at the greeting, backed away slowly. There was a look of abject guilt on her face, even as she clutched at a suspiciously new coat. Clearly, Rose was thinking along similar lines, for her blue eyes narrowed at her friend's outfit. "You did it… for _money_?" Amelia hung her head and made to say something. Quick as lightning, however, Rose cut across her. "I thought you were made of better stuff than that. I guess I was wrong."

Disgusted, she turned away and made for the train, button nose wrinkled in anger. Her face was as red as her hair, and Hermione could see sparks flying from her wand. Once they were out of earshot, Hermione pulled her aside. "You're not going to tell me off, are you?" exclaimed Rose, drawing attention from several passer-bys.

"Of course not," replied Hermione. "I wish you hadn't lost your temper, but I can understand why you did. I'm certainly no saint either." She gave her daughter a small smile and recalled her own brushes with Rita.

"Why did she do it, though?" asked Rose softly, drawing closer to her mother. Her face was beginning to mature, but she looked incredibly young at that moment.

"Greed," her mother said softly. Rose's eyes were wide and her idealism was woefully apparent. The idea of betraying her friends for money was, thankfully, an alien concept. Seeing her daughter's confusion, Hermione smiled slightly and kissed her head. "Ready to face the inquisition?" she asked wryly.

"As ready as I'll ever be," muttered Rose, still pondering her mother's words. Walking towards the train, she suddenly froze.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, concern flitting across her features.

"Oh, Merlin," Rose breathed. "What the hell do I say to _Malfoy_?"


End file.
